C26 Get dressed

Sofia's POV

I woke up on my own the next day, not jolted awake by the eerie clanks of heels or Alex's voice.

"Good morning Miss Sofia," Rae greeted, walking into my room stealthily, her soft steps barely making a sound on the floor.

"Morning Rae," I greeted, feeling embarrassed at the situation I was in.

"I got this from a doctor, they said it helps treat wounds like this faster," she said, handing the balm to me.

"What'd you think will happen if I take this, Rae? The scars and tears are going to disappear, and I'll be left with a bare face that's waiting to be hit," I cut in, throwing the ball back to her.

"I need you to not follow me today, find something else to do, or just sleep," I ordered and she leaned closer as if confirming my words.

"You heard me right the first time Rae, I said, do not follow me," I said again, thankful that she didn't make me repeat myself.

"I'll leave this just in case," She said before walking out of my room, leaving me alone in the enveloping silence.

I stepped into the bathroom, scrubbing my skin hard. The thoughts of those two hands on my body, ridiculing, dirty, and humiliating.

After what felt like hours, I stepped out of the bathroom with my skin red from all the scrubbing.

I sauntered towards the bed, the urge to apply lotion on my skin was always gone and I could only stare at my red skin in the mirror before heaving a sigh and moving to apply lotion, including the one left by Rae on the table.

I sat still in my room, waiting—expecting them to come, to resume their charade but they never came and although a stilling silence of relief washed over me, there was a nerve-wracking turmoil inside of me all along.

My meals were brought on time, and it seemed like I was already getting accustomed to being abused that I was waiting for it to happen when I could just live past it.

It had been days now that I'd not seen Alex or his mistress, and a small part of me was hoping that Zack was back.

My face was healing fine and I was returning back to the Sofia I knew until the door flung open on a random night.

"Get dressed," He said, and I stilled, looking at him like he was some piece of a puzzle.

"Get fuckin dressed, I'll have the dress and makeup up artist sent to your room, anything more than an hour and I'll make sure to drag you there even f you're naked," He said, and was about it close the door when I'm asked again.

"What's the occasion, I need to know how to prepare myself?" I asked, my eyes twitching as I leaned in for his answer.

"A company's anniversary, I'm taking you along because you're my supposed wife. I'll make this clear, do not disgrace me and do not think that it is a way out for you. You better behave your best, dear wife." He said, slamming the door shut.

The makeup artist walked into the room almost immediately, setting the table and I finally began to click the dots.

Alex hadn't been here because he couldn't afford to offend Leyla, his mistress since he couldn't go to the ball with her, and he had held back from hitting me because he didn't want a half-dead wife to be his company for the night.

The makeup artist, a young woman with a bright smile, stepped inside, her hands already carrying an array of brushes and products. I felt the weight of the evening’s expectation hanging over me.

"Good evening, Miss Sofia," she greeted with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the coldness I had grown used to.

I offered a small nod in response, still feeling disoriented by the sudden shift in plans. As she moved around me, setting her tools down on the vanity, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My face, still bruised but healing, stared back at me, as if reminding me of the lies I was about to tell.

"You’ll look stunning tonight, I’m sure," the makeup artist said cheerfully, already dabbing foundation onto my face.

I didn’t reply. What was there to say? My thoughts were clouded, my mind racing. Alex wanted me to pretend—pretend to be the wife he adored, pretend to be his perfect companion for a night of celebration. But inside, I was a broken mess, hiding behind a mask of compliance.

As she worked, I kept my gaze fixed on the mirror, trying to silence the anxiety that churned in my stomach.

The makeup artist finished with my face, and I stood up, moving toward the dress that had been carefully chosen for me. A red, silvery gown that shimmered as I pulled it on. It clung to my body in a way that felt foreign, too tight in some places and too loose in others, but it was beautiful. It was exactly the kind of thing Alex would choose—elegant, but with an edge.

"You look amazing," she said with an approving nod as I glanced at my reflection. But even her praise couldn't make me feel anything more than hollow.

The car ride to the event was just as uneventful. Alex remained silent next to me, his hand resting lightly on the armrest, not bothering to engage in conversation. He was lost in his own thoughts, perhaps planning his next move with Leyla or thinking about the company anniversary. Meanwhile, I stared out the window, the city lights blurring together as we drove.

The soft hum of the car was the only sound between us, but even that felt heavy, like an unspoken tension hung in the air.

We finally pulled up to the venue, a lavish ballroom, its towering glass windows glimmering in the night. The lights were so bright, they almost hurt my eyes, and the noise from inside seemed deafening. The thought of entering that room, being paraded around like some fragile piece of porcelain, made me feel sick to my stomach.

The door opened, and Alex stepped out, adjusting his tuxedo as he extended his hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. The moment I stepped out of the car, the cold night air hit my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Stay close," Alex muttered under his breath, his grip firm on my arm as he led me into the ballroom.